That's What Friends Are For
by pisces317
Summary: After finding out that Shawn gave him the wrong letter on purpose, Gus chases him around the park. What would have happened if he had actually caught Shawn? I imagine it would turn out something like this.. Shawn whump inside!
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **That's What Friends Are For

**Summary: **After finding out that Shawn gave him the wrong letter on purpose, Gus chases him around the park. What would have happened if he had actually caught Shawn? I imagine it would turn out something like this.. Shawn whump inside!

**Spoiler: **Episode tag to 1.2 "The Spellingg Bee". If you haven't seen that episode (and I would be highly surprised if you haven't), then you will be slightly lost.

**Rating: **PG-13 with warnings for minor cursing

**Pairing: **None – all friendship

**Characters: **Shawn, Gus, Juliet, Lassiter, Henry, Chief Vick

**Disclaimer: **Not mine at all. I'm just borrowing and playing with. Believe me, if I were a writer on Psych, there would be a whole heck of a lot more Shawn whump on there. LOL. All characters belong to the creative mind of Steve Franks.

**Author's Note: **This is an alternate ending to the episode "The Spellingg Bee". I was watching the episode last night and wondered what would have happened if Gus had actually caught Shawn. Of course, I changed a few things for my evil purposes (mainly so I can hurt Shawn just a teensy bit more) but it's not too much, I promise.

**2: **This is my first venture into the Psych fandom so I really hope that you like it and that the characters are as close to themselves as possible; characterization isn't exactly my strong suit.

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><p>"Come here Shawn," Gus angrily called as he chased after his limping friend. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he shouldn't be forcing Shawn to run like he was; sure the knee injury wasn't too bad – a medium sprain at the most – but given how much the fake psychic had been overtaxing the joint during this case it had to be hurting him. Still, the part of him that was more furious about the information he'd just received didn't seem to neither care nor heed his rational mind's warning and kept chasing him.<p>

They both rounded another tree, Shawn doing a very good impersonation of Danny Kaye being chased by Basil Rathbone in The Court Jester. "Come here!" Gus called again. He reached out to grab Shawn's shirt, barely missing as he felt the cotton ghosting through his fingers. The pharmaceutical salesman angrily huffed and put on an extra burst of speed. He gave an almost feral smile when he noticed that he was gaining on his friend.

Shawn turned round another tree, doing his best to evade the very angry Burton Guster that was chasing him. Instantly Gus pivoted, moving from being behind Shawn to being in front of him and he pounced. Shawn gave a startled yelp as Gus' body weight slammed into him then they were both on the ground.

It was then that Gus' mind snapped back to reality, his quest for vengeance having been fulfilled. Oh God, he didn't just tackle his _injured _best friend did he? With the coordinated limbs of a scrambling spider, Gus climbed off Shawn and sat back on his heels. His chest was heaving, almost painfully, from both the running and the effects of having his breath partially stolen by the landing. Deep brown eyes intently watched the other man's chest altogether pleased to see it rising and falling. At least he hadn't killed him – that was a good sign.

"Shawn?" he called.

"Oh," Shawn groaned. The sound struck deep into Gus' heart, piercing it with a very, very sharp arrow. His right hand went straight to his head where, no doubt, a headache was steadily growing. The fake psychic had enough time to bring the hand to his head and wince before the wince settled into a very deep grimace complete with barred teeth and his hand lowered to his right thigh. He massaged the large muscle before he proceeded to attempt to straighten his knee. "Ow, ow, ow, ow, holy freakin' hell, OW," he exclaimed. The sound was a mixture of a groan and a shout – something Gus hadn't heard out of his friend since he was in a motorcycle accident and broke his arm in two places.

While his friend was cringing in pain, Gus followed the right hand down to the injured leg. The leg itself was bent at a forty-five degree angle, nothing abnormal about that. The knee, however, was grossly swollen. Shawn's blue jeans were poor cover for the distension in the joint. Gus winced; once in sympathy for Shawn and once in sympathy for himself. Shawn was never going to let him live this down.

"Shawn, why aren't you wearing your brace?" Gus winced again. It was the last thing he'd meant to say but he couldn't deny that it was a fair question.

"Took it off during the reveal," Shawn explained through a grimace.

"Why would you do that?" By now, Gus was exasperated and concerned. He was beyond annoyed at his friend for not doing as, he didn't doubt, the ER doctor told him to do but he knew the amount of swelling in the man's knee was painful and indicative of a worse injury than the one he'd previously sustained.

"Dude," Shawn answered, putting his normal tone into his voice. He raised himself onto his elbows so that he could easily talk to Gus. "There is no way I'm going to wear that thing while I'm doing my whole psychic thing! It cramps my cool style."

"You don't have a cool style," Gus countered. "And where did you stash the thing?"

"Dude," Shawn answered managing to sound hurt all the while pulling out a blue brace from his back pocket. The faked hurt dissolved into real pain and he hissed in response. "Ah," he groaned, shifting in his place in an attempt to get into a more comfortable position. "Okay, as comfy as the ground is, I don't think we can stay here all day."

Gus looked around with a sigh. Shawn was right of course, they both needed to get back to the precinct and debrief with Chief Vick; they had to if they wanted to get paid. The problem lay in not only getting Shawn both into the car and into the station but whether or not Shawn should be attempting to walk anywhere at all. Bottom line – he needed to get Shawn to a doctor _and _get to the debrief with the Chief.

"Stay here," Gus instructed. He got off the ground and headed for his Echo. It would be a whole lot easier if he brought the car as close to Shawn as he could rather than try and make the injured man try and get to the car. He'd parked relatively close so it didn't take him long to get to the car and within a minute, maybe two, he was pulling up along side the curb where Shawn sat.

Once he finished parking, Gus got out and went back over to his friend's side. Shawn had only managed to move a fraction of an inch since Gus had been gone and even that looked to be painful for him.

"How bad is it?" Gus asked as he knelt beside Shawn's right side. Even though he wasn't a doctor, his first instinct was to reach out and physically examine the injured knee. He stopped himself though so he didn't inflict more pain.

Shawn hissed as he shifted again. "Not too terrible. I'll be fine once I get the brace back on."

Something in the way Shawn answered told Gus that there was more to the story but he let it slide. However, the quick glances between the brace, the knee and Gus did tell him that Shawn needed help actually putting the brace on. Gus snatched the blue brace off his friend's lap. He was as gentle as he could be as he lifted the leg and applied but the brace but even still Shawn paled and ground his teeth together.

"Great!" Shawn exclaimed once Gus had finished. "Now let's get to the station and get paid!" He thrust an arm out for Gus to grab, which he did automatically, and began to get off the ground. Gus didn't miss the way the fake psychic didn't even try to put weight on his right leg but he held in his comment as he helped his friend heavily limp the fifteen feet to the car.

He was about to open the passenger door and escort Shawn into the seat but the glare his friend threw at him told him to back off just a bit. With hands held up in surrender, Gus went over to the driver's side and started the car. He patiently waited for Shawn to crawl into the car, close the door and buckle his seat belt before he began to head for the SBPD all the while planning on the best way to get the injured psychic into the station with as little pain as possible.

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><p>As it turned out, no plan that Gus had was good enough. By the time they got to the station, Shawn couldn't bend his leg without causing himself extreme pain. The slightly bent position his leg had been placed in once he sat in the car was the position it was staying in. As it turned out, that position was perfect for getting them both up the stairs of the SBPD.<p>

Gus held tightly onto Shawn's right arm as he all but dead lifted his friend's right side, allowing Shawn to work the left. Between the two of them they made it but it wasn't a pain free journey in the slightest. By the time they made it through the doors, Shawn had teeth indentations on his lower lip.

"Hey Shawn," Buzz McNab greeted happily, "How's it going?" His cheerful tone slowed and lowered the closer Shawn and Gus got. His forehead wrinkled in concern when he took in the human crutch position Gus was in but at a minute shake of Gus' head he didn't comment on it.

"Hey Buzz–"

"Spencer! Get your butt in here. I don't wanna be here all night!" Lassiter called from the Chief's office.

Gus swore he could hear Shawn growl at the detective but neither man said anything as they limp-hopped over to the double glass doors of Chief Vick's office.

There was a soft gasp from their left and the two men awkwardly turned to see Juliet O'Hara gaping at them with pity on her face and concern in her eyes. To her credit, the young detective tried to resume a neutral face when she realized that they heard her but it wasn't soon enough for Shawn not to notice it.

"Jules!" Shawn greeted with almost enough cheer in his voice to hide the strain in it. "Listen, I wanted to say thanks for your support during this case."

"You're welcome," Juliet answered with a warm smile on her face. "Are you okay? I wanted to ask earlier when you were here but you and Gus left before I was dismissed from the Chief's office and I didn't get a chance to."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Shawn answered. Behind him, Gus shook his head while mouthing "No" as loudly as he could. His grasp tightened when Shawn attempted to pull away so that he could show just how "fine" he was; there was no way he was going to allow his friend to cause himself a lot of pain just to try and prove a point that he could _not _prove.

"Great, well–"

"Spencer! O'Hara! Guster! Any day now!" Lassiter called. The group froze then Shawn and Juliet rolled their eyes.

"Better get in there," Shawn said, hitching his thumb behind him in the direction of the Chief's office.

Juliet politely smiled but Gus saw that she knew Shawn wasn't okay but was allowing the fake psychic his privacy and pride. The group made their way into the office, the two men ignoring the Chief's eyebrows raise in surprise as they stood in front of her desk.

Forcefully yet gently, Gus pushed Shawn into the only vacant chair left, doing his best to ignore the quiet hiss of pain his friend let escape. He didn't bother hiding his smirk when Juliet silently brought a spare chair from the table in the corner to Shawn's right side then walked away. Shawn glared at the chair in disgust.

Gus knew Shawn didn't want to put his leg on the chair but, in his eyes, that wasn't an option so he leaned down, intent to have one of their patented-pending whisper chats before they began. "Shawn," he whispered in his friend's ear, "take the chair."

Shawn smiled at the group but inclined his head closer to Gus'. "Dude, I am not using that chair. I don't need it."

"I know you like to pretend that you're fine but I happen to know that you're not," Gus argued. "Take the damn chair."

"Of course you know I'm not fine, you're the one that caused this."

"Don't you blame me Shawn. It's your fault that you didn't wear your brace and it's you're fault that you gave me the wrong letter in the spelling bee."

"I cannot believe you are blaming me for the injury that _you _caused," Shawn countered, actually managing to sound partially offended.

"I did not cause this–"

"–directly"

"–and you are not going to guilt me out of making you use the damn chair." The two men remained silent for a few seconds, offering broad smiles at the three people who were staring curiously at them, then Gus continued, "Don't make me nudge it closer."

Shawn's eyes flicked briefly towards the chair, eyebrows minutely raised when he realized that if Gus were to do that the chair would hit his painful knee, before they refocused back on Gus. "You wouldn't intentionally cause your bestest buddy pain would you?" he asked with the look of a kicked puppy.

Gus raised his eyebrows in response to the question then said, "Yes."

"Gentlemen?" Chief Vick inquired, interrupting the conversation. "Is this something the rest of us need to know or can we continue with the debriefing?"

Both men cleared their throats and Gus barely nudged the chair before Shawn grabbed his thigh, just below the brace, and stiffly lifted his leg onto the proffered chair. "I apologize Chief," he swept a hand towards the Interim Chief with his teeth clenched. "Please continue."

Chief Vick raised her eyebrows once again but simply cleared her throat. "Right, well as to the case.."

* * *

><p>Fifteen minutes later Lassiter and Juliet exited the office but Gus and Shawn stayed behind per the Chief's request. Shawn was still seated in the chair across from the Chief's desk with his leg on the spare chair but now that Lassiter and O'Hara had left, Gus sat down in the chair to his friend's left. The two friends sat there, quiet and curious.<p>

"Mr. Spencer," the Chief began. Her voice pitched ever so slightly as she said his name but she cleared her throat and continued. Her features softened from the professional Chief Vick to the more personable Karen and the boys felt their curiosity rise. "Are you alright? I was aware that you were injured, evidenced by this afternoon, but I did not know it was this bad."

Gus brought his thumb across a spot just below and to the right of his lips in an effort to hide the smile that crossed his face but judging by the _"traitor!" _glare Shawn was giving him it didn't work. He wiped the smile off his face and leaned back into the chair, settling in to watch the show.

"It wasn't bad earlier and it isn't bad now," Shawn denied with a placating smile.

"Yes I can see that given how you don't seem to be able to walk on your own and you," she peered over her desk at his elevated leg, "can't seem to bend your leg." She paused a moment to notice Gus' _"Ha!" _face and Shawn's _"Whatever!" _face then she continued to stare at Shawn, waiting for him to honestly answer her question."

"Okay, so I might have hurt my knee worse." Shawn all but mumbled his answer but the Chief's face showed that she heard.

"And how did you manage to do that?"

"Well," both men began before throwing each other _"how do we cover this up?" _looks.

"You know what? Never mind. Let's try this. How bad are you hurt?"

A "Not that bad," and a "He needs to see a doctor," rang out in unison and the two friends glared at one another before rolling their eyes.

"Okay," the Chief drew out the word. "I'm going to trust Mr. Guster's instincts on this one. Mr. Spencer, go get checked out by a doctor. You are not allowed to consult on any more cases until I have a doctor's note saying that you are fit to do so. You got it?"

"Yes Chief," Shawn answered, slightly hanging his head in defeat.

"Good," Chief Vick chirped. "Now, do you need some help getting out of here?"

"No. I am not having anyone carry me out of here."

"As opposed to me carrying you in?" Gus countered.

"Well that's just you Gus," Shawn defended as if that was all that needed to be said.

"As sure as I am that a few people around here would be willing to literally carry you out of the station, I was thinking something more of a practical approach. I believe we have a set of crutches hanging around here somewhere."

"They weren't in evidence were they?" Gus asked, his face pinched in a queasy feeling.

"As a matter of fact they were Mr. Guster. We apprehended a man who was trying to steal them from our murder." Shawn and Gus looked confused but they shook their heads to clear their growing curiosity. "Now, do you want them or not?"

Gus stared at Shawn, daring him to refuse. Once again, Shawn hung his head in defeat. "The crutches would be great."

**TBC**

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><p><strong>So, what did you think?<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

"Shawn Spencer." Thecall of the ER nurse brought his head up. She moved to his side when she noticed he was having trouble getting out of his chair on his own. "Would you prefer a wheelchair?" she kindly offered with sympathy in her eyes.

"No thanks, I'm good," Shawn politely declined. He tried to keep the clipped note out of his voice but when he saw the young woman frown he knew it hadn't worked as well as he had wanted. He felt bad for being rude, he really did but his knee was screaming at him for how he had treated it today.

Grabbing the crutches that were out on loan to him, Shawn followed behind the nurse. Each pounding step caused a grimace to crease his features as the reverberations echoed painfully through his knee. He actually looked forward to being off his feet, preferably with an ice pack wrapped around his knee and some ibuprofen or naproxen in his system. Alas, he must submit to the painful examination and hours of boredom first.

The nurse, Mary, showed him the room he was to sit in and patiently waited for him to stretch out on the examination bed before she spoke. "Would you like a spare pillow or an ice pack while you wait? I'm afraid it might be awhile before the doctor is available to see you."

Shawn smiled at her sincerity. He knew that caring about people wasn't a requirement for being a nurse, nurse practitioner or a doctor but it was always a relief when he ran into people who genuinely did care about mankind and didn't like to see someone in pain. He hissed as he settled onto the flat bed, jostling and partially bending his leg as he went and his face remained in the grimace as he answered her. "Both would be great, thanks."

"Would you like me to send your friend back as soon as he is finished talking on the phone?"

That question got Shawn's full attention. Who was Gus talking to? The clock on the wall said that it was only eight pm and unless he had a date or a client, Gus usually didn't call people this late; he was afraid of waking someone up. Still, the fake psychic knew he'd need some form of entertainment if the wait was going to be as long as Mary thought it would be so he nodded tiredly.

Mary, seeing the patient's eyes close and almost not reopen, silently stepped out of the room and went to go do as she suggested. She grabbed the spare pillow and ice pack then quietly crept into the young man's room. It was common practice to either wake the patient up so they could take the items themselves or simply drop them off and leave but Mary found that she couldn't do either. There was something about this guy that made her want to help him so she gently lifted his leg and slid the pillow beneath it then placed the ice pack on top. He groaned both in pain and satisfaction with her ministrations and she winced in sympathy for him.

Just as quietly as she entered, Mary slipped out of the examination room and went to go find the equally handsome friend. She felt as though someone should be around to take care of the poor guy and since it was very inappropriate for it to be her, the friend was the new volunteer.

* * *

><p>Gus waited approximately fifteen seconds after Shawn's back was turned before he promptly got out his cell phone and dialed Henry Spencer's number. He knew the two Spencer men didn't have the greatest relationship, and he didn't know if the older Spencer actually wanted to know about his son's health. But he would rather update the ex-cop and be told "I don't care" then to have his head torn off because he didn't call. Normally he didn't like calling anyone after eight, in case they were asleep, but he knew if that if the places were reversed, <em>he'd <em>want to know so he ignored the unease and dialed the number.

"Hello," Henry Spencer answered sounding very awake.

"Mr. Spencer," Gus answered with his normal professionalism in his voice. "It's Burton Guster."

"I know who you are Gus. What has my son done now?"

Gus winced at Henry's clipped tone. Maybe he shouldn't have called seeing as it sounded like the man could care less. It angered him that a father could care so little about their son but given the two men's history, he could partially understand it.

"Nothing," Gus answered too quickly for his own liking.

Apparently Henry picked up on it as well as he asked, "Really? You called me up at eight o'clock in the evening to just chat?"

"No, of course not!" The idea was appalling to say the least. If there was ever one person he would just randomly call and chat with it certainly wouldn't be Henry Spencer.

"Then spit it out. What has Shawn gotten himself into? Let me guess – the guy from the spelling bee got his revenge and ran Shawn off the road and now he's in the hospital."

Gus winced again. Henry didn't know that that had already happened and it was Gus who had fielded the call from Shawn. He didn't know what the older man's reaction would be to the news so he decided to go along with the idea, deciding he would neither denied nor confirmed the suspicion. "Sort of. I just thought you'd like to know that he's fine."

"Well if he's fine, why are you calling me?" Henry snapped, sounding annoyed at being bothered. There was a sigh as he breathed heavily into the phone then he started speaking again. "Wait a minute. If he is just now getting in too deep into the case, what happened to his knee earlier?"

"Uh. Well. You see…" Gus stuttered realizing that he had been caught trying to lie.

Instead of getting an earful for lying, Henry merely laughed, very loudly in fact, into the phone. "Gus, how many times have I tried to teach you how to lie? Thirty? And it still hasn't stuck?" The laughter continued for another few minutes before he got a hold of himself and calmed down, though there was still a broad smile in his tone when he asked, "So what really happened?"

"It's not important," Gus answered, more than a little ashamed that it was his fault that Shawn was hurt worse. "I just wanted to see if you had any plans with Shawn the next coming weeks?"

"Well, he was supposed to help me paint the house this weekend," _which was in two days, _Gus' mind silently provided and counted. "Then sometime next week he promised he'd clean his junk out of the attic so I could move some stuff up there. Why? How badly is he hurt?"

"I'm not sure yet but I don't think he'll be able to do any of that for at least a few weeks." Okay, so that hadn't been a total lie! He _didn't _know how bad it was _but _he did have an inkling; if he had to guess, he'd bet that Shawn had managed to turn a twisted or barely sprained knee into a much worse sprain; probably a grade III if he was told to be exact. The timeline of a few weeks was generous at best but until Shawn wanted his dad knowing the full details of both his injury and how he came by it, Gus wasn't prepared to give much more than that.

"I see. Well, why don't you have Shawn call me when he's finished with the doctor? Then we can work out new plans. Okay?"

_Crap! _Gus knew he would be in trouble with his friend for this but it was too late to take it all back now. "Yes sir."

"Oh, and Gus?" Gus waited with baited breath for what more Henry wanted to say. He was relieved at the next string of words. "Call me Henry. It's shorter."

"Yes sir – I mean Henry." The two men hung up and Gus blew out the breath he'd been holding.

"Excuse me, sir?" a young woman called to him just as he ended the call. Gus turned around to see a petite brunette in scrubs staring at him. "Yes?" he answered.

"Are you Mr. Spencer's friend?"

"Yes. Is he alright?"

"He's fine." She winced, realizing that if that statement were true Shawn wouldn't be here in the first place. "Well, as fine as can be. I just thought you'd like to wait with him for the doctor to come. It could be awhile. They don't count soft tissue injuries to be emergencies around here."

She began to lead him back into the examination area and to a room in the corner. Gus understood that most emergency departments didn't consider sprains and the like to be an emergency but it still baffled him that a nurse would openly admit that to a friend of a patient. "Does it matter if the patient was here yesterday after being involved in a motorcycle accident?"

The nurse stopped, grabbing a chart in a front of a door and reading it intently before she answered. "Mr. Spencer is right inside. It seems that the doctor who saw him the night previous was on tonight as well and is examining him right now. Do you want to wait outside or go in?"

Admittedly, Gus was torn. He knew that Shawn liked to have privacy but he really didn't want to wait out in the waiting room either; it's boring out there! "I'll go in."

She nodded her approval then knocked and opened the door. Shawn sat on the edge of the bed. His hands grasped the side, his white knuckles stark against the deep red of the rest of his hands. The doctor who was examining him, a squat bald man, sat in a rolling chair at his friend's feet with the injured leg in his hands. Chubby hands ran themselves up Shawn's leg, the fingers pressing and prodding here and there as they walked around the swollen knee. Shawn audibly gasped and tried, out of human instinct, to yank his leg out of the doctor's grasp but the man held the limb steady.

"Sorry," the doctor apologized looking truly sad that he had caused his patient pain. His features morphed into a look that Shawn's father often gave when he was about to lecture his son and Gus held watched off to the side to see what kind of reaction Shawn would give.

The man wasn't combative, so to speak, he just didn't appreciate other people telling him what he'd done wrong. Shawn didn't have an issue with people pointing out his flaws but with his father constantly pointing them out all through his childhood, he often bristled when someone did it to him as an adult. The reaction was extremely minute to say the least; no one but Shawn's dad or Gus would be able to see it.

On the outside, Shawn was care-free and let other people's opinions roll off him like water down the mountainside. But Gus knew his friend really did care what others thought of him and, while he may not show it, he took a lot more things seriously than most thought.

"I might add, young man, that this would never have been necessary if you had followed my instructions and simply stayed off your leg for a few days," the doctor scolded in a surprising English accent.

"Aw doc, I told you I couldn't stay off my leg," Shawn defended while he elevated his leg on top of a pillow.

"What I remember you saying Mr. Spencer, is 'Sure thing,' nothing about not being able to rest. If I had known that you would not follow my instructions, I would have supplied you with much more than a brace."

"Are you sure? Because I specifically remember telling you that I couldn't do that." Shawn grimaced as his leg sent a sudden burst of throbbing pain through his leg.

"How's it looking?" Gus asked when he noticed the doctor was about to get into an argument, an argument he _would not _win. The question sounded stupid and _so _not him but he couldn't think of anything else in the spur of the moment.

"Well, I will be ordering some x-rays and an MRI to confirm the extent of the damage but I believe the injury to be a bad sprain." The stout man stood up, coming to just below Gus' chin. He turned to address Shawn. "Until someone comes to take you to radiology, I suggest that you lay there and continue to elevate your knee. I will send Nurse Mary in as soon as we can squeeze you in."

Gus watched as Shawn did as he was told. He frowned when he realized it was more out of pain and exhaustion than his ability to heed a doctor's advice. The pharmaceutical salesman couldn't deny that the day had to have been tiring for his friend; watching Shawn constantly limping all over the place wore him out, it wasn't hard to imagine how hard it had been on the injured man himself. Gus had been lucky enough to never have injured himself as badly as Shawn had, so he didn't know by experience the kind of pain Shawn had put himself through. But, to know that it was enough that he couldn't hide it from Gus, or those at the station, was a statement on its own.

There many emotions that the Spencer men were opposed to expressing. Love was definitely at the top but following close behind it was pain. Neither man liked to admit when they were hurting, obvious though it may be to everyone else around them, often resulting in more injuries for Shawn and a blow to Henry's pride whenever he actually had to ask for help. It was all Gus could to keep from smacking them both upside the head when they were injured.

A throat deep groan brought Gus out of his ponderings and he looked around to find that it was just he and Shawn in the room. Picking the closest chair to the bed, Gus sat down, grateful to be sitting after the running he had done earlier and the exercise of hauling Shawn to and from the car. The man before him looked so peaceful that Gus hated to even speak.

"So," Shawn began with his eyes still closed, "got a hot date tonight?"

"No," Gus scoffed. "Do you really think I'd still be here if I did?"

"Ouch dude, that's harsh," Shawn pouted. The only signs that the declaration actually hurt him were the wrinkling of his forehead and his eyebrows drawing together to meet in the middle of his face. Though Gus knew his comment did the complete opposite of injuring his friend, the fact that the pain itself was real disturbed him and he found himself staring at a very blank, white wall just so he didn't have to see it. "You telling me you wouldn't be by your best friend's side as he waited in the ER because of an injury that _you _caused?"

"_I _caused the injury? You must be outta your damn mind," Gus argued. "Who was it that got run off the road in the middle of the night thus resulting in an injury to both the right knee and wrist? Yeah, I believe that was you."

"Yeah but you sure didn't help the injury any," Shawn groused with a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"And once again, I point out that it was you who screwed things up for me at the spelling bee."

"Dude, how am I supposed to argue with you when you're using logic?" Shawn scoffed. His face scrunched into another grimace and his fists briefly bunched into fists before releasing once more. To cover for his pained reaction, Shawn laughed at his own joke.

Like everyone else who knew Shawn (except for Lassiter, Chief Vick and Henry it seems), Gus couldn't stop himself from smiling and laughing along with his friend when he smiled or laughed. In spite of all the joking and arguing, Gus did truly feel guilty for causing his friend more pain but if there was one thing he and Shawn didn't do, it was discuss serious feelings.

"So, seriously Gus, who were you calling?"

Gus averted his gaze once again, refusing to look at Shawn as he answered, "Your dad."

"Why Gus? Why in the name of Billy Zane's hair would you call my dad?" Shawn demanded sounding a teensy bit annoyed.

"I thought someone should tell him that you're hurt."

"Why? I'm fine."

"Yes but you don't seriously think that you could help him paint the house this weekend do you?"

"Of course not Gus, that's why it's called 'no call, no show.'"

"That generally applies to jobs Shawn."

"And do you know how much of a job it is to paint the house with my dad? Seriously, I should be getting wages complete with health insurance, social security and disability for doing that."

"Well I think you should try and get disability now," Gus said, using his head to point to Shawn's injured knee.

"Don't be silly Gus. That only works if I was injured while painting the house."

Gus rolled his eyes at the comment. A retort about him knowing how disability works was on his is tongue but a sharp knock sounded on the door then it opened to admit Mary the Nurse pushing a wheelchair in front of her.

"It's time to get your pictures taken," she prompted with a smile. Gus saw her muscles tense as Shawn slowly began to sit up and he smiled. He thought it was sweet that she wanted to help his friend but he stored it in the back of his mind as teasing material for later. He wasn't above embarrassing Shawn in front of everybody but he wasn't going to cause the nurse any discomfort just because she happened to be one of the few people who cared about others.

"You happen to be in luck because taking pictures and smiling pretty just happen to be two of the best things I do," Shawn quipped as he stiffly and painfully got off the examination bed and hopped his way over to where Mary was waiting with the wheelchair.

Mary laughed warmly from her spot behind the chair. "Then it's too bad I didn't go into radiology. I could have seen that handsome smile for myself."

"Hm, that is a serious oversight," Shawn answered faking seriousness. "You should look into changing that. I'm in here a lot so there's plenty of opportunity to see the pictures."

Mary laughed again but her cheeks blushed a deep crimson. Clearly she had other thoughts running through her head that she had no intention of expression and it made Gus chuckle. She turned to look at him and she blushed even more but she soon regained her composure and instructed him in a more professional manner. "You're welcome to stay here while he take him to radiology. It will take us a while to get someone to examine the films so we'll be bringing him back when we're finished."

He nodded his understanding and assent but didn't respond. Just as they exited the room, Gus heard Shawn doing his best to flirt with the pretty nurse and he shook his head. It was good to know that no matter what Shawn was feeling, he wasn't in so much pain that he couldn't flirt.

Gus settled into the uncomfortable visitor's chair with a smile on his face. That thought above all else soothed his guilt. If Shawn was well enough to flirt, he was going to be fine.

**TBC**

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><p><strong>So, what'd you think? What'd you think? :D I know it sounds like it's the end of the story but I promise an epilogue will be coming soon - stay tuned. :) <strong>


	3. Epilogue

**Epilogue:**

Shawn sat in the patio of his and Gus' favorite lunchtime restaurant. The time spent at the hospital the night before had been long and boring but even still, he hadn't had much of a chance to rest while he'd waited. Gus had insisted on staying with him until the doctors told him he could go home. His excuse had been that he wanted to keep Shawn company while they waited for the results and the corresponding treatment but Shawn knew there was also a bit of guilt in there as well as wanting to make sure the doctor's orders were both heard and followed. So, it had been almost three in the morning before Gus had dropped Shawn off at his apartment then gone home to sleep and the both of them were just now starting their day.

His phone rang, drawing his attention from the passersby to the device on the table. He grabbed it, expecting it to be a text from Gus but groaned when his dad's number flashed on the screen. He had been waiting for this call ever since Gus had told him that he had called his dad. Shawn was actually surprised Henry had waited this long.

"Hello," Shawn answered after heaving a heavy sigh.

"Hello Shawn," his dad answered sounding every bit like the Cheshire Cat. "How are you?"

Shawn hung his head back, giving the impression that he was staring at the cloudless sky rather than trying to hit his head against an imaginary wall. "I'm good dad, how are you?"

"I'm good as well. Say, Shawn, I was wondering what time you would be around tomorrow to help with the house?"

_Really? _Shawn exclaimed in his head. _It's gonna be like that? _He raised his head to stare straight ahead of him, looking at no one in particular as he unfocused his gaze to allow himself to concentrate on the conversation with his father. "What do you say we cut the crap and the small talk huh?" he asked. "I know that Gus called you and told you that I wouldn't be able to come by for any manual labor for the next few weeks so what is it that you want?"

"Why didn't you call me and tell me you'd been injured worse? Or at all for that fact?"

"Because the first time I got hurt, it wasn't that big of a deal; I was fine." Shawn heard his father mumble something about him having to limp around and wear a brace but he ignored it. A little knee pain and a slight limp _was_ nothing in his book. "The second time," he continued raising his voice ever so slightly to capture his father's attention, "I didn't call you because _Gus _did. He didn't give me time to call you."

"Would you have called me if he hadn't?" his dad countered easily.

"What are you talking about? Of course I would have!" Shawn answered though there was so much sarcasm in his voice it was obviously a lie.

"Uh-huh. Look Shawn, I realize that we don't have the best relationship out there but I do want to know if you've been injured." The words '_Got it?' _were left unspoken though there was no doubt of them in Henry's voice.

Shawn was confused by this rare show of emotion from his father but for the sake of peace he didn't comment on it. Instead he sighed in defeat, the act more faked than real, and said, "Yeah dad, I got it."

"Good," Henry said and Shawn could practically hear him nod through the phone in satisfaction. "Now, how bad are ya hurt?'

Shawn rolled his eyes. He should have seen this question coming from thirty miles away. Of course his dad would ask him that! Because then both he and Gus could make sure that Shawn actually followed the doctor's orders and did as he was told. If he'd had a desk he would have hit his head on it in frustration; instead he settled for smacking his forehead.

"The doc said that it was a bad sprain," he conceded grumpily. "I was told to stay off it for a few weeks then I could start bearing weight as pain allows."

"Okay, I'll see you in a few weeks then," his father said then hung up.

Shawn groaned and leaned his head back once again. Sometimes he wished he had an invisible wall behind him so that he could slam his head against it whenever he had to talk to his father; it really would make things easier.

"Was that your dad?" Gus asked, interrupting his frustrated groan. Shawn raised his head to look at his friend. Gus was, of course, dressed in freshly pressed clothes and looking very much like the prep-guy he was. Though he and Gus often teased Lassie about his inability to wear casual clothes, Gus was just as bad. Sure, the pharmaceutical salesman didn't wear three piece suits and ties when he wasn't at work but his ironed polo and khaki Dockers were almost just as bad.

"Yep," Shawn answered as Gus sat down in a chair across the table from him. The waitress had sat them at a table for four and though he did know the reason for it, he pretended no to. He did however take the chair opposite the one he normally took so that he could keep his braced leg out of view of onlookers and out of the way of traffic. To the right of his seat was the wall that separated the main restaurant from the patio and for once he was glad for the illusion of privacy it provided.

Gus awkwardly leaned to look under the table the sat back with scolding look on his face. "Didn't Doctor Cole say to keep your knee elevated?"

"I don't remember hearing that?" Shawn replied all too innocently. Gus just stared at him making him try a different approach. "The chair isn't cushiony enough and it makes my knee hurt," he whined pathetically.

Instead of earning him some sympathy from his friend, Gus proceeded to roll his eyes. "I thought you might say that," he answered cryptically before he pulled off his coat which, Shawn mentally noted, he didn't really need to be wearing and began to neatly fold it up until it made a decent enough cushion. He placed the jacket on top of the chair then stared at Shawn, daring him to make another argument.

Knowing he was had, Shawn stiffly lifted his leg onto the proffered chair, wincing when the lack of support by his calf forced his injured knee to bend a little more than it liked. He inwardly laughed and outwardly rolled his eyes when Gus got out of his chair and scooted it under Shawn's lower leg then grabbed the empty chair to Shawn's left and sat in it, still sitting directly across the table all the while.

Much as he didn't want to, Shawn had to admit that the elevation and additional support felt good. He closed his eyes in relief from the pain he hadn't even known he'd been feeling and simply enjoyed it for a moment. When he opened his eyes, Gus was watching him with a small smile on his face.

Shawn had grown up with the understanding that men did not talk about their emotions and so simply allowed his gratitude to shine brightly in his green eyes then gave his friend a nod of thanks. Gus returned his nod as if to say, "You're welcome", and the smile on his face grew.

"You two ready to order?" their waitress asked, interrupting the serene and touching moment.

"Yes, I will have the fajitas with no onions and a glass of water please," Gus politely ordered.

"Dude, fajitas? You haven't even had breakfast yet! Get something breakfasty."

"It's one thirty Shawn," Gus retorted as though that actually mattered.

"So?" Shawn challenged playfully. He turned towards the waitress whom had been standing off to the side, listening to the conversation with a smile on her face and laughter in her eyes. "Excuse my partner, Senor Pantalones Ajustados, he doesn't know when to let loose. I'll have the Breakfast Burrito with salsa on the side with water to drink as well."

The waitress laughed and said, "You got it." She grabbed their menus and left to place their orders.

Shawn turned his attention from the retreating form of their waitress to Gus, rolling his eyes when he noticed Gus practically glaring at him. "What?"

"Senor Pantalones Ajustados, Shawn? Really? I am not uptight and how is a breakfast burrito different from fajitas?"

"Well for one it's a completely different name," Shawn answered smartly. "And for two it says that it's breakfast in the name – Breakfast Burrito. There's eggs and stuff inside not meat and vegetables."

Gus tolerantly rolled his eyes. He knew they would never agree on the subject so he simply let it drop. The meal was spent with Shawn planning out every thing he was _not _going to do thanks to the doctor's orders in between mouthfuls of tortilla, eggs, potatoes and other stuff. There were a few times when he got quiet as the pain in his leg made an appearance but each time he would look up and see Gus staring intently at him. He appreciated the concern he saw in his friend's eyes but it also made him uncomfortable. So he would continue with his light-hearted chatter, each smile and laugh he wrenched from his friend making him relax that much more in return.

When their plates were cleared and the check had been dropped, Shawn pulled out his wallet, surprising Gus. Normally Shawn was more than okay with letting someone else pay, it wasn't like he had a steady job like Gus did or a retirement fund like his dad after all. But he felt like he owed Gus this. It hadn't been necessary for him to stick by Shawn while he was in the ER and because he had, Gus more than likely had to take a half day off work – something that Gus did _not _like doing.

Gus stared at him, mouth unattractively open, for a good two minutes until he seemed to come to himself again. "Thanks Shawn," he said with much more gratitude in his voice than was normally called for. Shawn looked up to discover that he was being thanked for far more than covering a bill; he was being thanked for the very act that got them to this point in the first place. Gus was thanking him for being his best friend.

"I should be thanking you," Shawn answered, fully prepared to put a joke at the end of the sentence. Instead he was interrupted by Gus who got to his feet and straightened his clothes.

"You are more than welcome to do that later. Right now, I have to get to my three o'clock appointment." His eyes narrowed for a minute, taking in Shawn's general disposition then added, "Do you need some money for a cab?"

"No, buddy, thanks but I got it."

"Are you sure?" Gus checked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Go meet Doctor whoever."

"Alright. I'll see you tonight for the screening of Sixteen Candles, right?"

"Of course," Shawn answered in a 'Duh' tone.

Satisfied, Gus nodded and walked away. It wasn't until he was driving away that Shawn remembered he had Gus' coat. He shrugged off the mishap; he'd just give it back tonight when they met up at the Psych office.

Though neither of them had expressed their reasons for thanking the other, they hadn't needed to. Each one did what each one needed to do because that's what best friends did for one another; they support and look out for you even when you don't think you need it. Thanks is rarely needed or expressed because that's what friends are for.

_~fin~_

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><p><em><em>**And that's it! I hope you guys have enjoyed reading it, I certainly liked reading it. :) I am in the beginning stages of writing another Psych story, this time with an OC as a love interest for Shawn! I'm not sure when I'll post it but be on the look out because it will be soon. ;) **


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